


Breccia file

by Tethys_resort



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Acting, Adventure, Bar Room Brawl, Cats, Children, Chocolate, Conspiracy, Dancing, Diplomacy, Dogs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fairy Tales, Family Feels, Festivals, Fluff and Humor, Gambling, Gardens & Gardening, Grief/Mourning, Growing Up, Hide and Seek, Hiking, Horses, Insomnia, Letters, Loneliness, Memories, Midsummer, Moving On, Multi, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Peacocks, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Pumpkins, Running Away, Soul Bond, Sunrises, Theatre, Trespassing, Tumblr Prompt, Vacation, minor accidents, questionable choices in names, rock hounding, skijoring, wind harps, wow peacocks are a tag!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 11,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24684490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tethys_resort/pseuds/Tethys_resort
Summary: Unsorted, unsized drabbles mostly from ask prompts on Tumblr.  Each chapter label is the prompt I worked from.Labels and ratings will change as stuff is added.  Added to by whim.Two chapters this time!
Relationships: Arwen Undómiel & Maglor | Makalaurë, Celeborn and Arwen, Celebrían/Elrond Peredhel, Elrond Peredhel & Elros Tar-Minyatur, Elrond Peredhel & Ereinion Gil-galad, Elrond Peredhel & Erestor, Erestor and Celebrian, Erestor/Glorfindel (Tolkien)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 92





	1. #47 Why are you whispering? (Erestor, Elrond and Lindir)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #47 from an ask game
> 
> Thranduil has never quite gotten the hang of Imladris.

“Why are you whispering?” 

Elrond and Erestor jumped and looked back over their shoulders at Lindir perched in the window. Finally, Erestor whispered, “Either go away or come in here, but don’t just stand there.”

“But what about Elrohir, Elladan and Estel?”

“What about them?” Elrond sighed, it had been too much to hope that the plan would work. Beside him, he could hear Erestor grinding his teeth. 

Lindir’s eyes were wide and innocent. “We want to know what you are doing under Erestor’s office desk but we won’t all fit.”

Putting his shoulder down almost to the floor and craning his head to look up through the big bay window, Elrond could see all three of his sons in the oak tree outside. Each one had a heavy looking knapsack and a coil of rope over their shoulders. Whatever his sons were up to, it would require quite a lot of equipment. 

Heavy footsteps sounded from down the hall and Erestor popped out from under the desk, grabbed Lindir bodily and said, “Stay up there!” to the occupants of the tree as he dove under the desk again with the tiny minstrel. He crashed into Elrond but Elrond grabbed Lindir’s legs and yanked them entirely under the desk too. 

Lindir started to object to the treatment but was muffled as Erestor stuffed his robe sleeve into the minstrel’s mouth. All three froze as the door opened. 

King Thranduil stomped in and stared about the silent, very still office. Elrond could see him through the slight gaps created by the carvings between desk sides and top. He had a piece of pond weed stuck in his birch branch crown and still dripped slightly. 

He turned in a circle on his heel and stared absently at the paintings on the walls before muttering, “Skinny Noldor bastard,” and stomping out again. 

He left the door open, and Elrond could hear him going into his office, staring into the general scribes’ office and then stomping down the hall, leaving wet footprints, open doors, and puzzled silence in his wake. Elrond counted to one hundred and then exchanged glances with Erestor, probably safe enough now. 

Erestor let go of Lindir and shoved him off and out from under the desk before climbing out himself. As Elrond climbed out, his sons made their way in the window. 

Elrohir smiled, “What did Erestor DO?”

Elrond thought it best to change the topic of conversation before Erestor could respond. No point in giving them more ideas. “My sons. Why were you all out in that tree?”

Lindir was still dusting himself off but said, “I have always wanted to try building a wind harp. Elladan, Elrohir and Estel helped me find the perfect location and we were just going to install it this afternoon.”

Elrond stared at the knapsacks, that would explain the equipment. “I see…” He was almost afraid to ask the next question. “Where exactly were you going to put it?”

Elladan grinned. “On the roofline of the River Wing where the wind will catch it.”

Well, that made sense and Elrond couldn’t see any reason to object. Erestor snickered, but said nothing when Elrond glanced over. 

After all four had climbed out into the tree and then up farther to the upper portions of the roof, Elrond turned to Erestor. “You have to stop doing things like this.”

Erestor shook himself and his robes flapped into a little more order. “It is not my fault that King Thranduil rides a moose, does not know the irrigation schedule and ignored the posted signs.” He smiled benevolently at Elrond as he continued. “That wind harp is only going to be audible in the River Wing and the Diplomat’s Wing, but Thranduil isn’t going to have any idea of where to look for it.”


	2. #1 It's really not that complicated (Elrond and Celebrian)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #1 "It's really not that complicated."
> 
> Circle dances are traditional to Midsummer festivals. 
> 
> Trigger warnings: minor embarrassment

“It’s really not that complicated.” Celebrian had a wild grin as she explained. “The circle dances are traditional, everyone will love them!”

Elrond stared at his lovely wife and wondered where to start with the explanation. She was doing some sort of graceful step glide across their living room and giggling as she shoved the furniture toward the walls. Step-glide-turn, a rasp as she scooped up the little dining table. A thud and happy wiggle as she set it down next to the wall. The wiggle was distracting.

She noticed he had not moved and bounced back to him. “Elrond, you shouldn’t worry! We have a month to get robes made to lead out the dancers and when we have danced our fill choose a quiet corner of the garden and celebrate properly.”

Elrond swallowed and Celebrian slowly lost the smile and leaned down into his chest and shoulder. Instinctively, he cuddled her and stroked the bright silver curls. She said, “I thought you were happy to add the circle dances to the Shortest Night Festival?” Down their young bond he could feel the joy being replaced with a trickle of insecure doubt. 

Absolutely unacceptable. 

He pulled her tighter into the hug and confessed down the bond _. “My love, my bright star. I am looking forward to our first Midsummer married just as much as I enjoyed the Autumn Feast and Midwinter! You will look glorious both in and out of those robes….”_

Her head lifted from his shoulder to stare down into his eyes. _“But?”_ She prompted mentally. 

He could feel himself turning red as he admitted, _“I have never danced a circle dance in my life and didn’t really dance before meeting you. I was only ever taught the formal Noldor dances.”_ He sighed. _“And now we are to lead one for the festival together while everyone watches.”_

She backed away a few paces and stared at him critically from head to toe. His heart started to sink. But she smiled sweet and bright as she held out her hands. “Anyone as good a warrior as you are will do fine, my husband.” She pulled him into the center of the room. “Come, I’ll show you and we’ll practice together until Shortest Night.”

She linked arms with him and started slowly walking the paces. Side step, kick, turn, leap. Backward and bow. Together and kiss. Step forward and side step again. 

It really was an easy series of steps. And for the dance, all matched to the beat of a drum and yells. 

He smiled at Celebrian and on about the tenth circuit of the room she moved away enough to be in a position to mirror his motions properly. Distracted by her smile, he side stepped toward her instead of away and she dodged his clumsy feet lightly. 

His feet seemed plaited together as he tried to regain the beat with her again and she laughed and crowed, “My husband! You aren’t supposed to dance drunk until after midnight!” and whirled in to kiss him before bouncing away.

Laughing, he abandoned the dance for the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you want to ask me for a prompt? This is the link:  
> https://tethysresort.tumblr.com/post/619648196516380673/50-dialogue-prompts


	3. #2 "Close the door" (Erestor and Glorfindel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #2 from an ask game.
> 
> Elros is still dead. And people still miss him.
> 
> Trigger warnings: grief and mourning

“Close the door.” The tone was vicious. 

“With me on the inside or the outside of the building?” Glorfindel stood in the doorway and stared at his erstwhile roommate. 

Tears were dripping off Erestor’s chin, and he had been staring blankly at the walls of the chilly outbuilding in which he had taken refuge. Glorfindel had no doubt the drafty structure was perfect for the tidy stacks of kindling bundles and fatwood. But Erestor was only wearing his indoor robes and his fingers were white with cold where they clutched a tablet board. Glorfindel was wearing a heavy cloak, his winter Guard boots and gloves and he was cold. 

“Umph, too late.” Glorfindel kept the tone light and teasing, but stepped through and locked the door when he was inside. No point in accidentally gaining an audience.

Erestor glanced at him again and snarled slightly before turning away. “Whatever you want, it can wait. Go away.” 

The snarl almost covered the slight wobble in tone and Glorfindel gently stepped closer. 

He has only been in Lindon and the House of Elrond since last spring but Elrond and Erestor both had been acting weird today. Elrond had simply been lost in thought, staring blankly at paperwork, but Erestor had been uncharacteristically snappy and upset. (Well, he would admit that his roommate was always short tempered and sarcastic, but this was new.) He had never seen Erestor cry. 

He can’t leave Erestor here to cry by himself in the cold. 

When he was standing right next to Erestor, he handed the other male a handkerchief and glanced down at the bowed head. “If you actually really want me to go I will.” Erestor gasped wordlessly and Glorfindel paused before continuing. “But otherwise I am happy to sit here with you.” 

Erestor had sat endless evenings with Glorfindel when he was upset, together they had listened to the spring thunderstorms and the gales that had come off the ocean with autumn. He had rapidly become a fixed point of stability: a tidy, dark haired, dark robed figure parked in an armchair under the lamp, reading aloud or quietly talking with him in Quenya that lisped slightly. (Glorfindel found the Feanorian lisp both hysterical and almost unbearably nostalgic.) 

He would never press himself where he wasn’t wanted, but he found that he couldn’t simply turn away from Erestor either. 

Somehow he had become precious and special. 

In the silence, Glorfindel unfastened and pulled off his cloak, wrapping the wool and fur thing securely around Erestor. Erestor just glowered at him, but didn’t resist when Glorfindel pulled them down to sit side by side on the stacked piles. 

The minutes stretched and Erestor took another gulp of a breath before dabbing at his eyes. Glorfindel waited, he had all afternoon if need be. 

“It’s just hit hard this time. He lived to be 500 years old. We were there when he died and then Elrond came back to Lindon and we never sailed for Numenor again.” Erestor’s breath caught and he cleared his throat. “Elros was old, he had aged as Mortals do and worn away bit by bit. It hurt Elrond to watch him, but in the end his soul shown through like sunlight through water. He- Elros was so happy as he died, like all his wishes were granted at once. I think that is what comforts Elrond.”

The pause was longer this time. 

“When we got them they were both so tiny.” Fascinated, Glorfindel thought that “got them” was an entertainingly roundabout way of saying “kidnapped”. And it had finally clicked, what Erestor and Elrond both were upset about. This was the anniversary of Elros’ death. Erestor sniffed, “Five hundred years… It was not long enough.”

Very carefully, Glorfindel wrapped an arm around Erestor and pulled him closer without resistance, rocking slightly. 

Erestor turned into Glorfindel’s chest and started to sob. Glorfindel focused on holding his friend tightly; there is nothing that he can say. Five hundred years is very old for a Man, he suspects. They live in constant and ever-changing motion. But very young for an elf. No, definitely not long enough. 


	4. #3 “It’s three in the morning.” (Arwen and Maglor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #3 from an ask game
> 
> Arwen has plans for early morning.
> 
> Warnings: none that I can think of

“It’s three in the morning.” 

The voice was tiny in the dark and Maglor rubbed at his face trying to figure out where it had come from. And why the disembodied voice had awakened him to inform him of the time. 

After several fruitless glances about the apparently empty bedroom he ventured, “Is something supposed to happen at three?”

The response was a wail and reality clicked into place better. Little Arwen. How had she left her parent’s quarters? 

“Grandfather! Glorfindel said we would have to get up at three if we wanted to watch the sun rise!” There was the sound of his nightstand shelves creaking and he let go of the knife under his pillow to lunge over the edge of the bed. 

Maglor hung halfway off the bed, one foot hooked over the opposite side to keep from upending as he caught the nightstand. “Arwen! Get down now! We cannot go anywhere except the Healing Hall with your father if this falls on you.”

Arwen nimbly hopped down and backed up enough that he could slither far enough to heave the furniture back onto all its feet. Too overbalanced to slide backward again he continued onto the floor and looked up at the tiny elfling from a prone sprawl on his rug. “Now? What’s this about sunrise?”

“Glorfindel said we had to go at three.” Arwen sat down and leaned across his chest trustingly. “Last night.”

Still only half awake, Maglor patted her on the head and sorted through memories of the night before. Dinner… Hall of Fire… “You want to watch the sunrise from the high cliff tower?”

She nodded. Elladan and Elrohir were on night watch up there this rotation and she had been asking concerned questions of Glorfindel for the past week since their departure.

He sighed, it did sound like fun. “We’ll need some stuff first. Like our coats. And we should take everyone along.” He smiled. “You go wake your Ada and Naneth and I’ll make sure that Glorfindel and Erestor come too.” 

She let out a squeal of happy glee and hugged him before running out of the bedroom in a storm of thudding bare feet. He isn’t certain how one tiny elfling can make enough noise to sound like a herd of horses. His little brothers had all managed the same at that age though. 

Shaking the thought off, Maglor hauled himself to his feet and started poking through his dresser for more clothing than his night robe. With the scattered clouds, sunrise should be pretty today. 

Once dressed, and more awake, he laughed to hear Arwen in full cry through the open garden door as she explained her mission to her parents. He groped for his boots in their cubby, he had better hurry to hold up his end. 

For his stories of bright stars and burning sunrises, Glorfindel deserves the sudden awakening and walking up hundreds of feet of tower stairs. 


	5. #4 “I should have told you a long time ago.” (Glorfindel and Erestor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cinderella, Imladris style...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: None that I can think of. 
> 
> As always, if you have questions please ask.

“I should have told you a long time ago.” The tone was sheepish but unrepentant as Glorfindel waved muddy hands at his mate. 

Erestor looked at the pumpkins. “Yes, you should have.”

They both stared at the stream of water burbling out of the hill and down toward the River. “If you had told me about this little project of yours-“

“It was Celebrian’s idea.”

“-I would have told you to plant the stupid things 100 paces that way!” Erestor flapped at the hill in irritation and his voice rose to a shout, “Because 100 paces that way would not have broken the pipe leading to the lower fountains!”

Glorfindel looked a little more sheepish, the mud he had collected on hands, boots, tunic, and trousers was beginning to dry on the edges under the summer sun. Next to him cowered the stupid pumpkins that were the cause of the pipe breakage.

“I didn’t realize they would get quite so big. Or take on quite so much life, Celebrian said when she did it before with bottle gourds they were just a bit bigger than normal and prettier shapes.” He glanced behind him. “She didn’t say anything about them moving under their own power.”

Erestor grumbled. Pumpkins should not cower, they should grow quietly to a reasonable size and then die with the frost so that the fruit could be fed to cattle and pigs through the winter. Not grow to the size of small carts with tendrils that had knotted themselves in palpable anxiety as Glorfindel tried to re-route the brand new stream so that the pumpkins weren’t sitting in the water. 

Not to mention that the vines were now trying, ineffectively, to hide behind Glorfindel. 

Erestor rolled his eyes as one vine tried to surreptitiously slither past his feet and uphill to join its fellows. Taking mercy on the plant, he stepped sideways a few paces away from it and dusted off a bucket before turning it over and sitting down. “My love, may I ask why you and Celebrian have decided to secretly grow oversized, over-animated cattle food?”

“You know that book of Mannish tales Arwen is always carrying around?”

Erestor nodded, Elrond had purchased it from a Mannish trader, who in addition to the rare spices (like chocolate and coffee) he usually carried, brought rarities he thought the elves of Imladris would take an interest in. Despite the book being almost half the height of the elfling, Arwen had fallen in love with the colorful hand drawn pictures and ornate calligraphy. 

The fact that it was in an old Adunaic dialect had only prompted her to search out Elves who could read the stories to her. Like Erestor.

“You know the story about the Mannish female who went to the feast day?”

“That would cover about five stories.”

“The one where a Maia showed up and said she was a friend of the female’s mother and grew her a gown from the flowers in the garden and turned a pumpkin into a carriage?”

“Oh.” The pumpkins suddenly made more sense, Arwen loves that book. 

“We just have to keep them a secret from Arwen?” Erestor gave in. The lower fountains are decorative, not defensive and as he estimated the grown size of the pumpkins he began to snicker. 

“Yes?” Glorfindel looked at him pleadingly and flapped a hand at the vines. “Celebrian thought we could place them Hall of Fire for the autumn feast.”

Erestor eyed the green fruit. “At this rate, they will be too large for the Hall of Fire.”

Glorfindel sighed. “I know…. Maybe one in each courtyard?” The one closest to his foot smacked idly at the water and he said, “I mean, we don’t have to tell anyone they were like this, this alive. And they’ll die of old age before we harvest the pumpkins.”

Erestor lost the battle and started to laugh. “Okay, I’ll help. Just next time tell me at the beginning of the adventure?”


	6. #5 Why are you helping me?  (Erestor and Glorfindel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> True friends (and mates) help you move bodies.

_“Why are you helping me?”_ It was good he could speak down their bond, Erestor gasped with the effort of pulling the heavy body along the corridor. When he spotted Glorfindel with the cart horse and farm wagon, he dropped the matched pair of feet and leaned against the wall to catch his breath. _“Just you and not the full Guard or something?”_

 _“You said this needed to be kept quiet. Wasn’t it one of those Mannish sayings, ‘True friends help you bury bodies without any questions?’”_ He handed Erestor a container of miruvor he had swiped on his way.

Erestor immediately opened it and took a swig, and then snickered as he stared down at the unconscious bodies sprawled in a row next to him. _“Don’t bury these love, there would be a diplomatic incident.”_ He paused and thought about that. _“Another diplomatic incident.”_

There was a grating noise as Elrond pulled another elf lord out of the room. He let go of his burden and the booted feet thudded to the floor. “Oh, good. A cart. This is the last of the Eregion nobility.” He snagged the open bottle from Erestor and took several large gulps.

“Who’s left?” 

Gil-galad peered out the door, his crown was slightly askew. “A couple of the more tragically mentally tiny of my nobles. They are probably responsible for this mess.” He dusted out his tunic and trousers. “All three of the Golden Wood nobles, and about a half a dozen of the Palace guards.” He grabbed the bottle from Elrond, shook it speculatively and took a large gulp. “And Prince Thranduil collapsed with a really serious headache and sick stomach.”

Elrond shrugged, “Probably backlash from trying to send that many elves to sleep at once.” He grabbed the bottle from Gil-galad, and continued past him down the corridor. He was just audible as he turned the corner into the storage room of the tavern. “Miruvor will help until I can take him to the Healing Hall.”

Gil-galad sighed, Erestor could see that his knuckles were slightly bruised. The fight nerves were obviously wearing off as he said, “Lord Glorfindel, do you mind dropping these idiots off at the Healing Hall? We can just stash them in the different treatment rooms by likelihood of starting another drunken brawl and I’ll call them all into my office by rotation tomorrow.” He rubbed at his face with both hands. “Too bad I can’t lock them in dungeons.”

“Why not?” Thranduil was visibly staggering and leaning on Elrond and Erestor stepped up to grab the other side before the Prince could tip onto his face. 

“No dungeons. We have a couple of cells at the Guard Hall if we need them but most things are handled by the City Watch.”

“My Lord Father has dungeons.” Thranduil staggered forward and climbed into the cart without prompting and shuffled up through the straw to collapse at the front. “Perfect for escape training and locking up idiots until they sober up enough to realize they are idiots. Or idiots who think the nobles of the Golden Wood or Eregion won’t recognize loaded dice.”

Gil-galad sighed before he turned to Elrond and muttered, “At least the tavern owner was smart enough to run for the Palace, this will already be irritating to sort out.”

Glorfindel blinked down at Thranduil for a moment before taking off his cloak and tucking it around the Prince like a blanket. “So if you knocked them all out with a Singing, how did you not knock out Erestor, Elrond or King Gil-galad?”

Thranduil snuggled up under the cloak. He mumbled, “They got a few too. It wouldn’t be much of a Singing if I took out my allies too, would it?” 

Gil-galad smiled as Thranduil went limply into sleep. “Allies, huh? Hopefully so….”


	7. #5 Why are you helping me?  (Erestor and Celebrian)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some nights, it is hard to sleep.

“Why are you helping me?” It wasn’t like Erestor didn’t appreciate the help, but he was a little confused.

Lady Celebrian smiled as she scooped up another list from the library worktable. “This is the map set, right?” She danced off across the darkened library, list in hand. 

Erestor shook his head and continued sorting through about a thousand years of reports. 

Celebrian swept back and set down a pair of the big, bound, highly detailed atlases that were kept for research. She stepped back to Erestor’s neat lists and started scanning them again. 

He tried again. “Celebrian? It is well after midnight, why are you not asleep or at least sitting out under the stars?” He glanced out the open window behind him. “It is a lovely night.”

Celebrian did not meet his eyes as she grabbed up another piece of paper. “Did you mean the Longbeards of the Iron Hills or the Misty Mountains?” 

He snagged the paper back and claimed Celebrian’s hand at the same time, pulling her downward so that she was forced either to yank her hand back, sit next to him on the bench, or land on her face amid his open trade register. Erestor thought she was going to simply yank her hand away, but instead she crumpled onto the bench and laid her head on the table with a soft thump.

“How can you stand it?” There was a tone of underlying misery and the hand in his tightened. “Elrond, Glorfindel and half the Guard are gone to battle and you are just compiling trade reports. Aren’t you even concerned?”

He was not certain how to respond, especially since the trade report information won’t be needed for months and he was working on it in the middle of the night. Erestor sighed quietly, he had been carefully ignoring the sore spot in his soul at Glorfindel’s absence. And Elrond’s too, but Glorfindel is his mate. 

The quiet sniff next to him forced the conclusion that the first response should be to give Celebrian the handkerchief tucked into his sleeve. 

She blew her nose and sniffed again and he spoke into the silence. “It isn’t like the Last Alliance, is it? Where the battlefield was right there with us?”

“And we were both on it with them….” Celebrian’s voice was muffled by the table and both arms crossed over her head. “Instead I am left here to mind Imladris and baby Arwen.”

That startled a snort out of Erestor. “I think you are very distracted if you haven’t noticed that Arwen is being watched by Maglor.” He reached out and patted her hand. “And you are running Imladris fine while our mates are out Orc hunting. I’ll let you know if I see the need for improvements anywhere.”

Celebrian giggled in a watery fashion. “Ada Maglor has simply moved into the nursery, you know. With his mail shirt, sword and harp.”

Erestor privately thought it was a good idea, just to be safe. With the calls for help from the Northern moors and the flank with Arnor he suspected that whatever passed for politics among the Orcs had sent one whole group from the Mount Gundabad region to try and settle the other side of the mountains. There was no telling if there were more groups out there somewhere beyond the Imladris patrols and intelligence. 

It would take at least the full year, and possibly several to secure the area. Glorfindel had laid out a plan that would save the Elvish, Mannish and Dwarven settlements in the region, but it had required Elrond for the Ring he wore and general diplomacy.

Erestor only considered it a mercy that Elladan and Elrohir had agreed to go to the Golden Wood as a precaution. 

Which still brought him back to Celebrian sitting next to him crying. He sat there uncertain a moment and then said, “They’re fine.”

She jerked up and glared. “They are out of both our ranges to speak.”

He gentled his tone and tried again. “They are fine because we would know if something was wrong.” She stared. “You haven’t noticed yet that they are a part of us? Listen carefully.” He shut his eyes and reached out along the bond into the blank nothingness of distance. He could not feel anything. Yet Glorfindel was there, tired and damp but uninjured and untroubled.

Erestor’s patient reach was interrupted by Celebrian’s intake of breath in understanding. He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “Celebrian. Go to the gardens, listen to the trees and watch the stars. Then try. You’ll see.”

Celebrian smiled back and hugged him fiercely. “I will do that, but then I will come back and help you some more.”

She danced away, truly happier this time and Erestor returned to his note taking. If Celebrian returned, there was plenty of research to go around because he understands: tonight was one of those nights. The quiet peaceful spring sort, where the stars are clear and the valley peaceful, but it’s just too hard to sleep without Glorfindel. 


	8. #6 "You have to leave right now." (Elrond, Celebrian and Erestor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A minor conspiracy.

“You have to leave right now.” Elrond’s head jerked up from his paperwork.

“I do?” At his tone Erestor growled at him in patent frustration. 

“Weren’t you riding out along the Sunset trail today?” Erestor was obviously groping for patience. “To check on the waterfalls and springs for yourself?” 

He had intended that, but gotten distracted by paperwork as he checked on his office. Now, at almost lunchtime he wondered if it wouldn’t be better to just save the trip for tomorrow. The weather would be equally lovely and the waterfalls and springs would be the same for one day’s delay. 

Staring at Erestor’s irritated and sour expression, he wondered what sin his oldest friend and Chief Advisor thought he had committed. “I can just go tomorrow?” he ventured. 

Erestor shook his head. “No, you cannot just go tomorrow.” He sighed and a slight hint of the smile he usually bestowed on Elrond and others close to him reappeared. “Come on, I think we need to visit the kitchen.”

The kitchen? 

When he paused, Erestor scooped up his saddlebags and grabbed him gently by one arm. The eyebrows narrowed again when he hesitated. “Come on.”

It was obvious that Erestor had no intention of explaining. So they went to the kitchen. 

Elrond was shoved gently into a chair in the corner, like an unruly child he uncharitably thought, and watched as Erestor had a whispered conversation with Cook. Who turned and favored him with a deeply disappointed look. 

Elrond reflected that it would be nice to know what he had apparently done. 

Cook handed his current project (slicing cucumber) off to an under cook and trotted down into the storeroom. Erestor came and sat down in the chair next to him, smoothing out his robes sedately. He tried to keep the irritation out of his tone when he said, “Erestor, why are we in the kitchen? And why must I ride out and visit the springs today?”

Erestor grinned at him. “It’s a secret. Be patient, okay?”

So he waited. He reached down his bond with Celebrian and she patted him reassuringly, but disappeared almost immediately. He thought she was checking the upper croplands today and was probably quite busy. 

Cook reappeared with a travel basket and shoved it into his arms. “Here now, enough food for several meals.”

“Thank you.” Erestor bowed and headed out the door and Elrond was forced to bow hastily as Erestor dragged him off again, this time down the back steps to where a Guard was waiting for them. 

“Hello Lord Elrond, I have your horse as requested.” The very young Guard looked slightly overawed. 

Erestor took the lead rope and shoved it into Elrond’s hands. “Thank you, you can go get your reward now.”

The Guard brightened, “Thank you sir!” 

She trotted off back toward town without a second glance and Elrond turned back to Erestor. Erestor shrugged. “Faniel is the best in the beginning riding class, so Glorfindel awarded her first pick of the new lot of horses that came in last week. I think he has her in mind as a diplomatic messenger.” He stepped up to the gelding Elrond usually took for light riding and began to strap the saddlebags and carry basket full of food into their places between a bedroll and other camping supplies. 

Elrond was beginning to think this was a plot.

Erestor glanced over his shoulder at his expression and then laughed as he finished his self-appointed task. “Relax Elrond. I made promises so I can’t tell, but I promise you’ll have fun.” He turned and lightly hugged him. “Go have fun, stay out the night and tomorrow too if you want. Examine the Sunset Trail water supply. I’ll take care of stuff around here.”

Elrond sighed, obviously his loving family had a conspiracy. It was best just to go along with whatever Glorfindel and Erestor had planned.

The Sunset waterfalls were isolated but in the most protected region of Imladris, outside of the town itself, and Elrond lost himself in plans as he went up the graded trail. 

The ride was warmer than it would have been in the early morning but the heat only made the scent of the flowers stronger as he rode. He took a deep breath of lilac and honeysuckle. How long had it been since he had simply taken time off? A century? Maybe he should talk to Celebrian about going on another trip, to the coast maybe. Arwen is studying with her grandmother again, something about weaving he thinks. But she should get some practice governing too, he would have to send a letter asking her if she would like the task for a year or so. 

_“Well my Love, it took you long enough.”_ Celebrian was giggling as she spoke down their bond and Elrond jolted out of his thoughts to find her standing next to his gelding in the high mountain meadow. She had flowers in her hair and looked at him from under her eyelashes, _“And after I spent so much time planning our surprise mini-vacation!”_


	9. #7 "Just trust me."  (Glorfindel and Erestor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel scares about a thousand years of life off of Erestor.

“Just trust me.” The words had been whispered out loud, not intentionally down their bond, but Erestor heard them just the same. A sweet little plea in his ear, full of hope and longing. 

_“Come on my lovely adorable sweetheart, you can trust me. You’ll like this….”_ Now curious about who his mate was sweet talking, Erestor slipped closer in the bond. 

His mate was standing up on the rooftree of the one of the tall skinny buildings around the marketplace, balanced very carefully on the slates. Predictably, he noticed Erestor and pulled him closer to look through his eyes. _“He’s up there, do you see him?”_ He stared up into the tree above him and Erestor could see the flash of calico fur amid the leaves and little branchlets.

 _“That’s a her. Are you rescuing a cat? What happened to patrol?”_ Erestor absently scanned through the columns of numbers he was checking and made a notation to send someone to recheck the supplies of salt in the deep storage of the caves.

Glorfindel sighed and sent images. _“We were riding through town when Lord Turin’s dog pack came running through.”_

The visualization was sheer chaos as the large hunting hounds had circled through the market square. Baying for sheer joy of running, terrifying livestock, startling the patrol horses and knocking down displays. 

_“What sort of horrible excuse for parents names their offspring “Turin”?”_ Glorfindel paused as the roof creaked slightly. _“Linion Sang the pack into order and took them back to Lord Turin’s residence. Horrible, ill-trained, brainless...”_ Erestor wasn’t certain if Glorfindel meant the dog pack or the Mannish Lord currently in residence. (Certainly not Linion.) _“I’ll have to go there next I guess.”_

He took a deep breath as he looked at the tiny kitten hanging in the thin branch of the tree, poised in space above a hard landing on the cobbles of the market square about three stories down. _“I thought it was all sorted and then someone noticed the cat.”_

The kitten was slipping as it edged along the branch. Erestor wondered if it was old enough to have learned to use its instincts to right itself as it fell. _“And why are you doing this? And not someone lighter?”_ Glorfindel was not the smallest or lightest of elves, and wearing the light chainmail and helmet typical for the inside patrols in peacetime. 

Glorfindel laughed at Erestor’s grumble, humor restored. _“Everyone else is on errands and I am only one left who is brave enough!”_ There was a groan from the trusses inside the roof. _“But I think you should order an inspection of this building.”_

Why hadn’t Glorfindel just gotten some elves and a tarp to catch the silly thing? _“That would have been good, except there is too much stuff in the way below.”_ Erestor rolled his eyes.

 _“I’m going to get Elrond to inspect your head, I think.”_ Erestor carefully set his paperwork aside and told the scribes he was going into town. As he walked through the Last Homely House he listened to the creaking under Glorfindel’s feet. _“You need to find a new perch!”_

Glorfindel was scanning the buildings around him. _“I’m trying….”_ He shifted and the groaning was joined by a series of sharp snaps and a sudden drop of a few inches that sent tiles sliding. _“On second thought, you aren’t going to be able to order an inspection of the roof….”_ Out loud he cooed, “Come on sweetheart, just trust me and come a little closer.”

Erestor broke into a run. He couldn’t help Glorfindel but he felt that it was definitely a moment for moving faster. _“Glorfindel, get off the roof. Now.”_

 _“I agree…”_ There was another sharp snap and the whole roof swayed. As Erestor watched down the bond in horror Glorfindel launched himself upward off the crumbling roof. 

He grabbed the kitten off the little whippy branch at the top of his arc and then tucked it against him as he fell. 

Momentum carried him down onto the roof of the house across the alley, one story shorter. He landed on his feet with a tile crunching crash and a mental _“Oof”_ before curling and sliding down the roof and onto the upper story balcony on his side. 

He landed between the potted plants in a suspicious crash of breaking pottery and what Erestor suspected was a now displaced wind chime. 

Glorfindel lay still and Erestor could feel a thousand tiny painful spots as his mate fought for air. 

_“Glorfindel? Glorfindel are you okay?”_ He cleared the front gates of the Last Homely House and darted up the short stretch of road into town toward the marketplace.

 _“I got the kitten.”_ Glorfindel sounded very happy as the shopkeeper whose bedroom he had just landed beside joined him on the balcony. _“Do you think I should take her to the animal healers before giving her back?”_ He yelped, indignant. _“She just bit me.”_

Erestor sighed. 


	10. #8 "I've been waiting a long time."  (Arwen and Celeborn)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arwen and Celeborn go hiking.

“I’ve been waiting a long time.” Grandfather Celeborn had clearly attempted to make himself comfortable in his wait: his boots lay under the tree and he was sprawled on the stream’s edge cooling his feet. 

Arwen grinned and giggled unrepentantly. “Sorry Grandfather! I got distracted.” She sat down on the bank and began to untie her boots and roll up her trousers some more. They were a little long, but Grandmother had told her she would grow into them given a little time when she had confiscated the old (too short) pair Arwen had intended to wear. 

She had had an entire set of clothing when she came South for the visit, it had only taken her three months to outgrow all of it. Grandmother had laughed and arranged for new, telling her how surprised Ada and Naneth would be. 

Come to think of it, Grandfather Maglor, Elladan and Elrohir would all be surprised when they got back from Gondor. 

Her little side trip to climb up out onto the lip of the little rocky point had taken much longer than she expected but Grandfather Celeborn seemed amused rather than alarmed or angry. And at least she had gathered an entire handkerchief of berries to share for their now incredibly late lunch. 

He smiled up at her. “And what did you see while out wandering, little hawk?” The smile grew, “I could see you out there on the point, did you like the view?” 

“It was…” It had been incredible, the mountain falling away in a series of great white cliffs under a sky so blue it was almost black. The bare rock had sung in choruses under her hands and the wind had blasted cold and clear. “It was pretty.” She wasn’t certain she liked that description, but wasn’t certain how to expand. 

She rummaged into a pocket. “I found a quartz crystal.” She held it out.

He carefully took it and inspected it from all sides before holding it up to the sky and staring through it. “Does it sing to you little hawk?”

She looked at the handkerchief of berries. “Yes.”

Grandfather sat up and picked up her hand, tucking the crystal into her palm and closing her fingers over it. He ruffled her hair before picking up a berry. “Every elf learns that the entire world Sings, but some parts always sing louder or more clearly for them.”

She opened her hand and stared at the crystal, humming and listening to the clear, sweet ring.

“You hear the stones clearest, I think. Like your grandmother and Uncle Celebrimbor. Your mother and brothers hear the life of the woods and meadows.” He stuck the berry in his mouth as she stared. “These are good blackberries. I hear the soil and the mountains, but not the rocks themselves usually.” 

“What do mountains sound like?”

Grandfather tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “They tell me the fault lines allowed the spring that makes this creek. They grumble under their breath and sleep but one day will move again to make the mountains higher.”

Arwen shut her eyes, trying to hear the mountain but could only hear the cold, but friendly, chuckles of the water running past and rolling bits of gravel along. 

Grandfather snagged several more berries and tossed them in his mouth. “Hah! I’ll eat all the berries if you daydream.”

Arwen giggled and hurried to eat her share of the berries. Grandfather pulled his feet out of the water and went to unpack their lunch. 

After lunch, he repacked his bag properly and said, “We should continue on now if you still want to see the moon rise over the crest of the mountains.” He stared down at her. “But tomorrow we’ll make a detour I think you’ll like.”

“A detour?” Grandmother expected them back at lunch tomorrow.

“Just a short one. If we go over the mountains a little I know of a place with garnets.” He smiled broadly. “You can fill your pockets if you’d like and I’m sure your grandmother will show you how to polish and Sing them if you ask.”

Arwen’s stomach fluttered in a mixture of awe, terror and delight. “Could I?” 

He laughed, “I don’t see why not.”

They refilled their water bottles before they continued on the tiny winding trail upwards. She laughed at the wind in her hair and thought that she would have to remember to show Naneth her quartz crystal. 


	11. #9 "You're in love with her."  (Erestor and Glorfindel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elven steeds come to Imladris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentioned animal death, mentioned battle

“You’re in love with her.” Glorfindel sing-songed the words and Erestor scowled. The grin got wider. “She’s sweet, she’s smart and will be perfect when we’ve worked with her a little. Trust me, you’re in love.”

Erestor stared across at the long legged filly that Glorfindel had moved into the paddock behind the stables. “I thought I’d just get a regular horse again.” Madha had died in the explosions that had rocked the last battlefield of the Alliance. Far too close, but pinned under her corpse and shielded from the worst, Erestor had somehow survived. 

After that, even though he really needed one, he wasn’t sure he was ready for another horse. Or an elven steed.

The herd of elven steeds had been an unexpected arrival at Imladris. Apparently they had been a well-kept secret of King Gil-galad, with instructions that they be bequeathed to Elrond.

Gil-galad was also dead in the final strokes of the last battle of the Alliance. The death toll was staggering. The Ring was gone, along with Isildur. Entire communities had (those still alive) Sailed. But the elven steeds had arrived this midsummer, bringing a certain amount of hope and cheer to the battered valley of Imladris. 

Glorfindel had almost immediately selected one as his own. 

Erestor snickered in remembrance. He was fairly certain that the stallion had actually selected Glorfindel as his own. The big, light footed, light gray dappled stallion had spotted them standing at the edge of the pasture the herd had been settled into and literally run toward Glorfindel, sliding to a stop on his haunches inches away and examining Glorfindel’s braids in the deepest interest. 

At least it had been sniffing only, and not a sudden attempt at ingestion. Elrond had laughed and asked, “Are you wearing sugared fruit as hair ornaments today?”

As the newly dubbed “Asfaloth” attempted to follow Glorfindel right out of the pasture, Elrond had handed the job of managing the herd over to Glorfindel and ordered him to set up a budget and hire staff.

Erestor understood that the plan was that they all have riders, but to start Glorfindel had selected handlers for the herd at large, and set up training rotations to work with them all for months. Once he had a feel for each he had been matching elven steeds and riders.

Potential riders had final say, but Glorfindel’s picks were excellent and no one had disagreed with his choice yet. 

For Elrond, Glorfindel had selected a really big, blocky mare, a strikingly beautiful buckskin with silvery white stripes up her legs that matched her mane and tail. Elrond had blinked at the elven steed and then turned questioning eyes on his Seneschal. Glorfindel had grinned. “Because she will carry you through anything.” 

He leaned over the fence holding out a slice of apple and the mare obligingly walked up to stand next to them. “I call her Dusiel, for the flower.” He patted her fondly, “She’s a warrior.”

Elrond blinked at him in confusion and Erestor started chuckling. “The one I told you about from the south of Rhun?” Dusiel was the Southern Sindarin name for the thick succulent plants. The elven groups down there grew the blasted things as a hobby, they thrived in the sun and heat. The fragrant night blooming flowers were glorious creamy gold and white. And the plants were armed with rows of gracefully hooked thorns.

Erestor had once had the misfortune to back into one, and required assistance to get free of its sharp grip.

Glorfindel grinned. “It seemed appropriate.”

Which brought Erestor back to the filly in the paddock. 

Erestor’s apparent new mount stared back from under a long black forelock. She was a very dark bay, and heavily patterned like most elven steeds. But instead of the more common dappled or pinto patterns, her entire back half was liberally decorated white spots just the size and shape of eggs. And, Erestor sighed, striped hooves. 

He smiled tentatively at the silly looking thing: she appeared to be two horses, (one solid bay, one spotted) glued together in the middle. 

Glorfindel stepped closer, enveloping Erestor in a sudden hug. Down their bond he whispered. _“She is the most clever of the entire group. She is loyal and very brave but doesn’t want to fight. She would try for her rider but she hasn’t any heart for war and it would be a death sentence for her to join the patrols.”_

Erestor sighed but leaned back into Glorfindel’s arms as he continued. _“She is very fast, agile, and her gait is smooth. Perfect for diplomatic missions. You are the chief advisor, you don’t regularly end up in battle but you will need a mount that can keep up with Dusiel and Asfaloth, even on the battlefield in formation with Elrond. And if you ever need to run, she will be smart enough to help you do it.”_

Erestor stared at the filly, now smacking her lips as she looked at them. He noticed that she bounced as she stepped around the paddock, circling closer to them. “Madha.”

Glorfindel started laughing, and the elven steed’s ears flipped to listen. 

“It is what I have always named my horses. You know that.” 

“You have no creativity in names.” Glorfindel smiled at the elven steed. “Hrovahin. The brown child.”

Erestor patted at the arms enclosing him. “Hrovahin it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt that officially left my control... The idea of writing a ton of little short bits and drabbles about the elven steeds makes me too happy so more might appear. (And if you especially want more, tell me!)


	12. #10 "Come here." (Erestor, Elrond and Glorfindel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel invents skijoring.

“Come here.” Erestor’s voice was quiet, formal and level, as befitted a chief advisor interrupting his duty time in the (empty) Healing Hall. 

But there was a glint of wicked humor lurking in the back of his eyes and Elrond wondered what his old friend was up to this time. “Do I need my healing kit?”

A smile appeared at the corners of Erestor’s mouth. “Quite possibly, but not yet.” They walked out of the Hall and made a sharp turn to go up the access steps half hidden at the end of the corridor. “I thought you’d at least want to see how it happened.”

They came out onto a small observation deck, swept clean of the new snow and overlooking one of the big training fields. 

Elrond blinked at the sunlight on the packed snow, then laughed. Glorfindel was out there with Asfaloth and a pile of random bits of harness and equipment. He was wearing his plate armor and helmet over his heavy winter gear. 

Erestor’s rare smile brightened. “Ever since the first big snow, he’s been working on an experiment.” He shifted, then leaned on the deck rail. “You know how we use those sleds to pull supplies?”

Elrond nodded. The flat bottomed devices were perfect for an elf with snowshoes. 

“I read that in some places Men use dogs to pull the sleds.” Elrond tried to visualize dogs pulling a sled. They’d need a harness on the dog, lines or harness to hold the sled to the dogs… But Erestor was continuing, “We were thinking of trying it out with some of the cart or plow horses, but then the elven steeds arrived this summer and Glorfindel ran out of spare time.”

Elrond stared at his Seneschal, standing in the snow with Asfaloth. 

Glorfindel was fastening something to a plow harness while the big dappled gray stallion danced in place. The jingle of bridle bells was audible even up here. “Glorfindel has decided to turn Asfaloth into a plow horse.” Asfaloth sidestepped, watching Glorfindel lay out the long leather traces, and Glorfindel gently called him back to standing still. 

“Trust me, Asfaloth shows no potential as a plow horse.” Erestor shifted on his feet before he laughed slightly. “Teaching him the verbal commands was simple, the harness is close enough to his war rig that he wasn’t fussed even when Glorfindel draped it up in the stable.”

“But?” Elrond could hear an enormous “but” on the horizon of the explanation. 

“The Guard sleds look like a threat and Asfaloth has trampled two now.” Erestor’s face was blank. “They weren’t even attached to the harness rig yet. The first one he knocked down from the fence and stomped to kindling. The second he had to let himself out of the side paddock to repeat the event.”

“So Glorfindel doesn’t intend to use Guard sleds?”

“Well, he might when he irons out enough issues and they train a couple of the plow horses.” 

Glorfindel was arranging more things behind the war stallion. Elrond narrowed his eyes, they were long and thin. “What does Glorfindel have out there on the ground?”

Erestor’s smile was back. “Crossing the Ice and in Gondolin they sometimes used long boards called “skis” instead of snowshoes. Apparently they take practice but you can move much faster.”

Suddenly the armor made sense. Glorfindel was lacing his legs into the “skis”; Elrond visualized broken legs and sighed. At least he wasn’t tied to the harness. 

Legs secured, Glorfindel picked up the harness traces, bracing himself back. At his soft command, Asfaloth began to walk a wide circle around the field. They moved up to a trot and as Asfaloth turned with just a little too much force, Glorfindel lost his balance and tipped off into the snow. He was dragged in a wide slow skid, throwing up snow before Asfaloth obediently stopped. 

Somehow supremely skeptical looking, the elven steed rubbed his nose on one knee as Glorfindel sorted himself out and straightened the harness back into order. 

“He says the edge dug in wrong, it’s a long time since he’s done this.” 

“I can see why he needs the armor.”

Erestor smirked. “That was my request.” 

Glorfindel had everything ready for another try. Elrond held his breath as Asfaloth headed out in a trot straight across the field. As he approached the fence, Glorfindel called him into a long turn and Elrond held his breath. 

This time they made it and Glorfindel whooped with delight as they sped off in the other direction. 

“He says he thinks he’s got the knack now.” Elrond glanced over at where Erestor watched intently. “He’s going to speed up a little.”

Asfaloth went smoothly from a trot to a canter and from there into a gallop, snow spraying up around his hooves. He gasped as the galloping elven steed cut into a large figure eight pattern, pulling Glorfindel along on the sharp backside of the turn. 

There was another happy whoop from the field as Glorfindel stayed upright and Erestor started laughing. Asfaloth’s tail was flagged and his ears forward, the picture of a happy horse. Elrond could see this daft plan of Glorfindel’s actually working. 

Then he had a thought and turned to Erestor. “Will it cause more or fewer social repercussions if Thranduil sees this one?”

Erestor laughed harder. “Can you imagine Thranduil trying this with that moose of his?”


	13. #11 We could get arrested for this. (Erestor and Elrond)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor and Elrond fulfill a long delayed errand.

“We could get arrested for this.” Erestor shuffled a little farther down the narrow ledge with Elrond in tow. 

“Estel could probably un-arrest us.” Elrond was having a little more trouble with the climb. They were unreasonably far off the ground and Elrond had no desire to become a splat at the base of the Citadel wall. Erestor seemed to have no such concerns. “After all, we are doing this for his own good.”

“Yes, but would he want to?” Erestor slithered under a gargoyle, using a hold on the head to maintain his balance. The ear delicately crunched off under his hand and Erestor paused upside down to exam the bit of stone before carefully stuffing it into the open mouth of the statue and continuing. 

He stared up at the next section of wall before removing the pack that had also contained lock picks and a tiny canister of oil. “This is where we needed the rope.” 

After pulling it out of his bag, Erestor carefully shook the line into order. He secured the end to his belt and ran his fingers through the loose collection of hooks. Finally satisfied, he braced himself and swung the hooks up, the bundle splaying out and neatly catching. Elrond watched, fascinated, this was one area in which his chief advisor exceled. Not a normal talent for an advisor and scholar. 

Probably a very normal talent for an old Feanorian. Or maybe randomly picked up in all Erestor’s years of concluding that he would rather walk on the roof than talk to people. The possibilities were endless. 

Erestor gave the rope a tidy yank. “We could just hand this letter over to him at table.”

“Gilraen was very specific. She asked that I make sure that he got this letter entirely alone. She had seen that Estel would either die like his father, or become the embodiment and symbol of hope.” Elrond thought of Elrohir and Elladan riding into the courtyard, leading a familiar horse with a bloody bundle strapped over its back. And the bitter arguments before she had returned to the hills of her birth. “She didn’t want either.”

“But this is what she sent you? That last year?” Erestor wound the rope around his middle and up through his legs, neatly walking across the blank wall to the next segment. 

Elrond had opened the slim package alone in his office. Two letters, a chunk of the sealing wax ubiquitous to the Dunedain, a small brass seal. One letter to him, signed and sealed. It asked that he read the other letter and then seal it properly. The other unsealed, addressed to Estel.

After reading the letters, he understood.

Climbing over the way Erestor had was work and Elrond had to concentrate. At the other side, Erestor pulled him onto the next narrow ledge. From here, all they had to do was climb up to the next balcony. Instead of continuing the climb, Erestor sat down and pulled a water skin from inside his tunic. He took a swig and passed it to Elrond. 

“She loved Estel, and felt like she had driven him away with her disapproval.” Elrond took another swig. “She wanted to give her blessing to his marriage and his future kingdom without altering his chances for success. She thought anything she said then would either go unheeded, or alter the balance.”

Erestor sighed and leaned back into the stone behind their perch. “And if he failed, or died, he would never know that she had seen the failure happen in equal likelihood with the success.”

“Yes.” They sat in silence, watching the city lights and the stars. Despite the hour, Estel was still meeting with Faramir and his new gaggle of councilors. Glorfindel had offered to sit in at the meeting as a military advisor. 

Military advisor, and way for Elrond and Erestor to keep track of Estel’s location. 

In too short a time, Erestor was climbing delicately to his feet again. He smiled at Elrond in the dark and patted one shoulder. “They are wrapping up. Well, if we are to sneak in and leave a letter from his mother we had better get moving.” He chuckled quietly, “Embarrassment of this sort would be worse than arrest.”


	14. #11 We could get arrested for this.  (Arwen and Maglor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The peacock episode.

“We could get arrested for this.” Maglor felt compelled to at least warn Arwen.

Arwen grinned. “Only if we get caught.” She shifted slightly on her perch overlooking the fenced enclosure before sliding off to land lightly under the big tree. She looked up at him. “It should be fast, you can stay up there if you want.”

Maglor sighed as he slid down after his granddaughter. They had seen the peacocks very briefly and from a distance on their arrival tour. Arwen was fascinated with their beetle bright colors and the eye-spot patterns down the tail of the male, and had dragged him off on this adventure while Celebrian and the diplomats were busy at the old Fortress. 

He chuckled to himself. “Dragged him off” indeed. 

Still, neither of them was needed in what was essentially a routine diplomatic visit and cultural exchange in Dor-en-Ernil. And at least here, in a land of Men, he didn’t need to hide.

Arwen’s training showed: she was doing an excellent job of flitting unobtrusively around the edge of the colorful garden. A few more years and she would be old enough to join the Patrols of Imladris and the Golden Wood. He sighed at the thought, Glorfindel hadn’t let him accompany Elladan and Elrohir on Patrols until they had 50 years’ experience. He expected the same to happen again. 

He caught up at the light wooden lattice of the gate. “Is it locked?”

“No, and the birds are all at their feeder over there.” She flipped the latch and slid into the roofed pen. “I’m going to get a closer look.”

Maglor sighed and followed, leaving the door ajar – just in case they need a fast escape from the birds. There was also always the chance of gardeners or keepers spotting them. 

The peacocks seemed docile enough. They walked around the pen, circling around them with tall deliberate steps that made them seem top-heavy. The male’s tail rustled like a pile of parchment as he fluffed it slightly and walked toward Maglor.

Maglor stared at the bird. Up close it was even bigger than he had expected, with the long tail trailing stiffly behind. Its head turned and tilted up to inspect him more closely with a fixed homicidal gaze. “Arwen? Have you gotten a close enough look yet?”

The bird puffed with a deep breath and said, “Unk.”

Maglor blinked at the thing.

“Unk. Unk. AYAAAAA!” The last syllable was an awesome shriek, immediately mirrored by the bevy of females behind it. 

Arwen skittered a step away from the door, startled, and the peacocks dashed toward the door as an unsteady screaming harem. 

Realizing the danger too late he hissed, “Arwen, quick! Head them off!”

Arwen leapt at the male in the lead, grabbing it as it reached the door. She yelped as it batted at her with enormous wings and they rolled into a thrashing heap. The females rushed screaming over top before the male struggled free, gaining the door after the rest. 

Despite their size they lofted effortlessly off into the top of one of the large trees bordering the garden. Once there and invisible in the leaves, they started a chorus of angry, “UH-AH!” screams that were echoed from other flocks in the city and whimsically reminded Maglor of the housekeeper the time Elros and Elrond, and he had borrowed all the spare quilts to build a fort in the abandoned lower cellar. (It had not been the fort she objected to, but the algae and slime mold.)

“Um, Grandfather?” The tentative fright in Arwen’s voice made him look down belatedly. She was covered in dust and her nose crinkled, on the edge of tears. “It was an accident…”

Arwen was lying on the male peacock’s tail feathers. All of them.

He blinked at the incongruity before muttering, “Well, I guess that explains why they aren’t all eaten in the wild.”

Arwen began to giggle. “He ran away completely tail-less.”

They both looked up at the sound of voices in the distance.

Maglor said, “We need to get out of here.” He peered out the lattice door to make sure the area was still clear. “Come on.”

Arwen paced him in the straight dash across into cover, over the low stone wall into a Lord’s garden, and from there into a busy street market. In the quiet back corner of the market he glanced over his shoulder at Arwen and stopped short. 

She had the tail feathers clutched in her arms. 

At the pause she shifted them, trying to make them into a neater bundle, like a market purchase. Catching his look she said, “It wasn’t like the peacock was using them anymore.” She smiled winningly. “Grandfather, will you help me smuggle these home?”


	15. #12 “What are you thinking about?”  (Glorfindel, Erestor, and Elrond)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel and Erestor run away from a formal reception.

_“What are you thinking about?”_ Erestor spoke down their bond, no point in alerting a potential hunt. Glorfindel had been ominously silent since they had reached their perch up on the roof of the Palace, tucked into a comfortable nook that looked out over the Bay. 

Glorfindel continued to stare across the moonlit water. _“It’s still quiet, we might have made a clean escape.”_ He sighed, and tucked his formal robes around him as he sat down cross legged. 

Erestor sighed and sat down, only to be tugged over to lean against Glorfindel. _“I’m really sorry.”_

Glorfindel snorted, his jewelry clinked as he leaned back against the tiles, pulling Erestor along so that they lay curled side by side in the small space made by the roof levels. _“I wouldn’t consider it entirely your fault. Elrond and Gil-galad will sort it out. Eventually. Probably.”_ He was visibly trying not to laugh and Erestor could feel his rib cage hitching in the attempt. _“Perhaps next time don’t take offense when the Numenorean Ambassador mistakes you for a server and decides to steal your plate?”_

 _“It was MY chocolate.”_ And his cookies, and his glass of wine. All he had needed was to find a seat to listen to the minstrels. The drunken idiot of an Ambassador had swooped over, grabbed plate and glass, bussed Erestor’s cheek and chortled, “Thank you missy, I’ll take this set.”

Erestor could only feel that stomping on the Ambassador’s foot and taking back his plate was a reasonable reaction. Reasonable but not diplomatic would have been stabbing the idiot for the kiss. Unreasonable was how quickly the Man had taken offense. He let out a huff of air. _“Missy, indeed… Someone should school him in civilized behavior.”_

_“I can’t imagine that Gil-galad isn’t already making plans. The look on his face…”_ Glorfindel snickered.

Another thought occurred. _“Glorfindel, my love?”_

 _“Hmm?”_ Glorfindel was quickly growing relaxed and happy, not bothered by any of the mess they’d left behind.

 _“Perhaps don’t pitch the delegation into the viewing pond next time?”_ Erestor was certain that had not helped matters.

Glorfindel laughed out loud and kissed his head. _“The moon on the water is beautiful tonight. Let’s just watch the stars.”_

The moon on the water was indeed pretty, the waves were calm enough for a perfect reflection. Erestor sighed, feeling the tension start to slip away. 

He jerked, but Glorfindel didn’t move when there was a scrape of feet at their escape window. _“Elrond already, huh? Must have been a depressing reception after we left.”_

Elrond slithered down into their spot and then lay down on his back next to Erestor. He sighed and said, “My brother’s island is stranger and stranger every generation.”

There was another rustle as he pulled a tiny basket over and plopped it on Erestor’s middle. “With Gil-galad’s compliments. He thanks you for not stabbing drunken Mannish idiots and creating yet more diplomatic problems.” He scooted a little closer, leaning his head against Erestor’s shoulder before shutting his eyes with another sigh. He quickly and gently drifted off into a nap, his quiet breathing soothing the last of Erestor’s frazzled nerves. 

Erestor reached into the basket. His fingers encountered an entire pile of the little filled chocolate lumps and cookies with chocolate bits. He smiled and popped a tidbit into his mouth before selecting another and reaching over to drop it in Glorfindel’s mouth.

 _“It’s warm enough that we can just sleep up here.”_ Glorfindel sent a feeling of warmth to Erestor as he chewed. _“Then we won’t have to carry Elrond to bed.”_

Elrond muttered. “I can hear you.”

Glorfindel laughed.

Erestor ate another chocolate before carefully setting the basket aside for the moment and just watching the sky. Glorfindel was right, this was a good way to spend the rest of the evening. 


	16. #13 “I thought you were dead.” (Lindir, Glorfindel, Elrond)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel agrees to be in a traditional play for Midsummer.

“I thought you were dead.” Glorfindel delivered the line in a blank faced monotone, staring fixedly at Elrond where he had just walked into the minstrel’s room of the Holly Wing. They had been at this for hours, maybe Elrond would order them to take a break? 

The growl from beside him wasn’t promising. “I said with less emotion. Not none.” Lindir’s eyes narrowed further. “And why are you standing on one foot?”

“Umm?” Glorfindel wasn’t certain if he should admit to not noticing the placement of his feet. “Art?”

“That’s not art. Don’t add art.” Elrond was beginning to giggle and Glorfindel sighed and placed both feet squarely on the ground. 

“Now. Again. With a little, and I emphasize a LITTLE emotion.” A snort escaped Elrond and Lindir whirled. “My lord! It isn’t funny.”

Glorfindel gave it another shot. “I thought you were dead?”

“It was not a question.”

“I thought you were dead.” Glorfindel gave it yet another go, vowing that this was the last time he would ever fall down the stairs. 

There was a tea kettle noise from Lindir. “And apparently everyone else thought she was alive. The emphasis goes on ‘dead’.”

“I thought you were dead.” Elrond had his hand pressed over his mouth hard enough that his knuckles were turning white. Glorfindel decided that he would have another word with the Palace dog master after this. On the one hand he had indeed lost his balance on his own, on the other she was the one who had chosen that day to run the scent pack through the Palace on a practice for an indoor chase. 

“Wrong emphasis.” Lindir shook his head. “This is a moment of extreme emotion, the Lady is not dead and that is-“ his voice rose with full breath support “-a VERY GOOD THING!” 

Elrond broke in, “Why do you have Glorfindel in the play?”

“Because I need a strong handsome warrior.” Lindir gestured at his duo of female minstrels. “And none of us will do. And it has the smallest speaking part.” He gestured at Glorfindel. “And he is on light duty for a week with his wrist. I am one actor short and could not find anyone else who would even hear me out for a play.”

“I see…” Elrond’s eyebrows were bobbing between crimped together and in his hairline as he tried valiantly not to laugh. 

Glorfindel ventured, “I am sorry, but I did tell you I am not good at this.”

Lindir made a noise that was frankly heartbroken. “You are ridiculously decorative. But I don’t know how you can be so abysmal at acting. Nor how you apparently cannot stand still for a rehearsal.” 

He splatted into a chair and Glorfindel and the other two minstrels took that as a signal that it was safe to sit down.

Elrond stared at the tableau of the old play: Lindir as the narrator, Tuilinn as the Lady with her harp, Elulith as the Dragon who lures the Lady into the cave with an enchanted flute, Glorfindel as the Warrior who kills the Dragon. “Perhaps a new play?”

“For the Midsummer festival next week? It is already on the programs for the first night.” Lindir stared off into space. “This is the last time I do the Palace minstrels a favor - Lady Yavanna can sprout and grow their ‘personnel problems’.”

Glorfindel giggled and Lindir stared at him fixedly, fingers tapping in that way he had in deep thought. 

A smile grew on his face as he stared at Glorfindel. “And I’ve always hated how it ended. I think we’ll reorganize the play a little, give it some updates. Perhaps remove all of the speaking parts and add more music?” 

Glorfindel wondered what the play would look like when it was performed. But at least the lines, “I thought you were dead,” seemed to no longer be an issue. 

**Author's Note:**

> I am on Tumblr as Tethys Resort if you want to request something too or just say hi!
> 
> https://tethysresort.tumblr.com/post/619648196516380673/50-dialogue-prompts


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